


Short Stories by a Wanna-Be Author

by Waffles_and_Fries



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck, Original Work
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Sexual Assault, Past murder of best friend, Poems too I guess?, What even are these tags?, alexa play despacito, that's a tag? - Freeform, this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waffles_and_Fries/pseuds/Waffles_and_Fries
Summary: Just some short stories about anything and everything. Warnings and Disclaimers will be at the beginning of each chapter.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Ao3 users! This is my first work on this site so feel free to leave some advice/ (constructive) critique. Enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the song. That song belongs to Nickelodeon, Specifically the producers of Avatar the Last Airbender. Though I am proud to say everything else is mine :)
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH

Sparus was short, at least short by Persian standards. That was probably why he’d ended up a messenger, instead of a warrior like his brother, it was always a sore point to him. Except for now, right now he was angry. He’d been assigned to go to mainland Greece to demand a gift for King Darius from the people of Marathon agreeing to Persian rule. It was a pretty normal routine, but not a regular reaction. Instead of surrendering out of terror from the stories surrounding the Persians and their King, they’d thrown him down a dark, dank pit with a small circle of the sky visible above him.

Sparus leaned back against the muddy wall and closed his eyes, he didn’t know how long he had been down there. He’d stopped trying to count the amount of times the sun had passed over the hole and disappeared to be quickly replaced by the moon. All he knew was that he was hungry. He made a futile attempt to lick his lips, but his tongue had long been dry, swollen and numb. When he’d first been thrown in here, he had screamed his throat raw, then slowly subsided to incoherent murmurings. Begging for help, or calling out someone's name. Anyone’s name, he just wanted out.

But now, with the walls of this cursed hole seeming to be closing in around him, he felt no more hope of rescue. It seemed so stupid of him to think anyone would help, if they wanted to they would have done it by now.

He opened his eyes and saw the speckled night sky and moon. Sparus loved the night sky, especially the moon. His mind had started to grow fuzzy and he couldn’t seem to stay awake. He couldn’t remember why he had been angry, it seemed like such a silly emotion to have. His eyes sluggishly tracked a pair of leaves as they fell to the ground of the pit. A weak smile forming on his face as a song his mother used to sing to him came to mind.

_Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_  
_Like tiny fragile shells, drifting in the flow_

He could almost see her standing there in her plain brown dress. Hair wind blown and soft smile planted on her face as she stood in front of a small house.

_Little soldier boy, come marching home_

She would sing it before they went to bed. Which was perfect because all he wanted to do was sleep peacefully, in the calm white light of the moon. So he closed his eyes basking in the meager light of the moon. He felt his heartbeat slow, and his body didn’t seem like his own. He smiled inside then let the darkness surround him.

_Brave soldier boy, come marching..._

_Home._


	2. Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: contains possible triggering subjects. Mentions of past assault.
> 
> Everything is mine (All mine!) Lol I've always wanted to say that. Anyway hope you enjoy!

You didn't tell them the day it happened. You were young and scared and for some unknown reason, you were just so _**ashamed**_. You never said anything and they never asked. So life went on and you tried, you _really **tried**_. But it wasn't enough.

They ask why you don't wear shorts or why you always wear your sweatshirt without fail. You don't answer because you don't know how to explain. How to say that you feel vulnerable without as much covered as possible. How the weight of your thick jacket makes you feel safe and warm. Like you used to before.

You laugh with your friends as you walk down the hall. But you can't ignore the uneasiness you feel when you're roped into they're friendly roughhousing. The need to get away when they grab your shoulder. But you force yourself to stay smiling. They don't know, they _**can't**_ know. They'd look at you with that pitying look. The one you can't stand. They'd know your shame. They'd never treat you the same again. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as you're asked a question. They don't need to know.

Your Mom insists on going swimming every chance that she can and drags you, your brother and Dad. She doesn't understand why you only ever swim in your clothes. And you don't explain. They wouldn't understand.

You're always getting in trouble for how long you take showers. But you deal with the snide remarks. You ignore the way they try to figure out why. You don't tell them how sometimes you stand under the water hoping maybe this time you'll actually feel clean when you get out. But it never works. No matter how long ago it was. You still feel like you're just as dirty as you were that day. No matter how long you stand under the streaming water. You still feel ashamed. You never mentioned the time you grew so desperate that you turned the water as hot as you could. So hot it burned your skin. But yet you still felt dirty.

Though you still can't rationalize the reason you're careful with who touches you or where. It never used to bother you. But now you find it hard to even hug your dad. And you feel so bad, so guilty when he comments on the fact that you don't hug him as much as you used to. And then there's that nagging shame when you look at him and murmur a response. You hate that you can't even bring yourself to trust your own _**father**_.

You sometimes wonder if you should tell them. Tell them how you can't remember his face but his touches still linger. How this faceless entity is why your skin feels like it's crawling when touched and your brain is screaming at you to _**get away**_. But you always decide to leave them in the dark. What if they didn't believe you? What if they were disappointed that you couldn't stop him. No, you can't. Even if they _**did**_ believe you, they'd treat you different. Things just wouldn't be the same. So you keep your mouth shut. You don't tell them what's wrong when they ask. Eventually, they'll give up. They'll forget and brush off your weird eccentricities and be none the wiser. Even though your friends explicitly, it's easier this way. They don't need to know.

Somehow that thought doesn't relieve you as much as you thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter was a bit sad but hope you liked it! And please leave constructive criticism, as I'm a poor beginning author. : )


	3. Those Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it's been a bit. Whoops, sorry! : )
> 
> Everything is mine (All mine!) Lol I've always wanted to say that. Anyway hope you enjoy!

  

I want to see those days again

Where free hugs were our currency

And we weren't afraid to dance

Where we'd sung like no one's watching

And daddy's arms could make us fly

Where grandma's cookies always made us laugh

And we'd never say goodbye

I want to see those days again

My how days just fly

I want just one more day with you

Before we say goodbye 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter wasn't really a short story, but hey it's something. And please leave constructive criticism, as I'm a poor beginning author. : )


	4. Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit different but hope you enjoy it! I own everything.
> 
> WARNINGS: NONE

"Who was it?"

Sam paused, startled by the unexpected question. "I'm sorry?" He asked the older man.

"You're familiar with hospitals. The average Joe would've jumped outta his skin when that couple came tearin' in here screaming for a doctor. You barely moved a muscle. Who was it that had you visiting a hospital so often?"

Sam raised his eyebrow, slight amusement colouring his tone as he replied. "What makes you think I'm not just an off-duty doctor?"

The man scrunched up his nose in thought, glancing at the open notebook on Sam's lap. His gaze met Sam's once more before answering, a mischievous twinkle in his aged, chocolate eyes. "Your handwriting's too neat." 

Sam felt a smile of genuine amusement spilt his lips.

"You got me there. I'm no doctor, but I'm not here to visit anyone," Sam said. The two sat in silence before he turned to the elder. "What about you? You don't strike me as a stranger to waiting rooms, not with the way you just questioned me."

The man's smile never faltered as he conceded, "You're right, in fact, you could say I live here." Sam gave an understanding nod.

"I know what you mean. I'm here at least once a week. What is it that keeps you here?" The old man gazed at the door that leads to the rooms provided to the long-term patients. His face softening, wrinkles seeming to disappear. Sam took the moment of silence to observe how contrasting the man's white hair was to his dark brown, almost black, eyes.

The old man turned to the younger and said, "I'm waiting on my wife to get here. I usually stay with her in her room but figured I'd come and give the folks in the waiting room some company. But I'll go back to her room before it's over."

Sam tilted his head "Over? Wha-"

"Sam Fergensten." Sam jumped and turned to see a nurse holding a clipboard and looking expectantly into the waiting room. He got up and walked towards her. At the doorway he stopped to bid the old man farewell, only to freeze.

The old man was nowhere to be seen, a mom and 2 kids settling into the vacant seats instead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked! Remember to give kudos and comment questions, prompt ideas and constructive criticism.


	5. Silent Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Yayyy! Anyway I really didn't mean to go so long without updating, sorry bout that. Anyway straight to the story!
> 
> WARNING: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

**_"If scars could tell a story,_**  
**_mine would be of you._**  
**_If those thin white lines could sing,_**  
**_of all that I've been through._**  
**_Thankfully the babbling red will quiet soon._**  
**_Silenced by cloth and an_** _'I'_ _m_ _fine, how are you?'_  
**_If scars could tell a story,_**  
**_they'd surely speak of you._**  
**_But for now, their song stays in my head,_ _  
a lethal lullaby."_**

 

* * *

 

It started out of morbid curiosity. The question of whether the method actually helped. The answer easily within reach. Maybe the pain could chase away the numbness. Maybe it wouldn't. What then? But the dark seeds had already been sown.

 

It never actually happened until years later. But the thoughts had always been there. A dark voice that whispered and urged. _Do it!_ it cried. _It would be so easy_ it simpered. But the knife lay untouched and the razors remained smuggled away in the darkened corners of the room.  
 

It was the numbness, not the words that eventually won. The nothingness that just engulfed all of existence. Every smile simply a gesture, the laughs empty and fake. Going with the river's flow but never feeling the chill of the waves. Existing in this empty hole used to bury a shattered psyche.

   
It came as no surprise when the soul eventually screamed for something, **_anything_** _other than this prison of blank space_. The need a living, _visceral_ thing. So when the blade was offered, the point sharp and promisingly lethal, it was taken without question. Readily welcoming pain like a long lost friend. Yet to be scared arms wide open and warmth flashing on a face that had forgotten how to feel.

   
It spiraled from there. Once one whispered voice had been adhered a cacophony of others joined in. Ceaseless in their wail, but masterful in the way they beautifully twisted the mind. After all, eventually the pain would lose its effect. Best to have a contingency plan. It wouldn't do to be forced back into that void. Trapped without a voice, soundlessly crying as broken chipped nails claw at its airtight walls.

   
It shouldn't have been so easy to hide. But a life of acting and a dangerously sharp mind allowed for scabs to be explained away. Rivers of red spiraling down the drain without notice. Pearly, raised lines never seen; hidden effortlessly by shifting cloth. Lines are drawn on skin where no prying eyes would ever see.

  
A broken razor blade in the desk. A box cutter smuggled from school. A knife in the dresser, another under the bed. Cataloged and acknowledged without emotion. Emotions hurt. But pain was a welcome companion. Wonder briefly flickered behind dulled eyes. _When did this fatal dance become routine?_ But the thought was soon forgotten. It doesn’t matter anyway.

   
As time goes on the scars multiply but the urge stays the same. Not another soul told of the situation. Eventually, they’ll be found. It’s something that’s already been thought of and accepted. But for now, this bloody limbo shall continue.

 

* * *

 

 

**_If scars could tell a story_ **

**_I fear mine would not only speak of you_ **

**_No, they would mention me too_**

**_For you may be the reason why_ **

**_But it was my hand that drew those lines_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit depressing as most of my stories tend to be but the next one I promise will be more upbeat. Hope you guys enjoyed and as always drop a comment, maybe a story prompt or constructive criticism even. Anyway hope everyone enjoyed! : )


	6. Continuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one to pay y'all back for the hiatus! It's something I wrote for class one year.

The room was boisterous and crowded. Dim lights casting an eerie yellow tint on the dirty tables and broken barstools. The paint on the walls chipped and peeling here and there. Air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. The large men crowding the room had long since bid their sobriety goodbye. Huddled in groups playing cards or reveling in the false sense of happiness the spirits provided.

 

The light mood was enjoyed by all but two men who sat in the corner. One a tall, black haired man. The other short but quick. The tall man gave the shorter a concerned look. He opened his mouth to voice his concerns but the shorter one speared him with a look. Quickly shutting his mouth with an audible click, Slim got up. Sparing George a single pitying look he sighed and walked away.

 

   It was another hour before the small man finally got up from his table. He left enough money to cover for all the drinks he had lying on the table before stumbling out the door. George moved to walk back to the bunkhouse but stopped and frowned. His face turned grim as he turned and started to make his way to the forest outside of town. He remained silent as he tripped and stumbled his way through the brush. Only stopping once he reached a narrow pool.

 

   He stood and stared at the large body lying motionless beside the calm, green waters. George cursed and moved to sit beside his dead friend. He gave a cold laugh at the thought. But couldn’t dispute it. Lennie is a friend. Or was a friend. George drew up his knees and embraced them. Staring at Lennie, as if expecting him to be copying him, action for action. Managing to even look a little hurt at the dead bodies refusal to move.

 

   George stared a little longer at Lennie. His unseeing eyes still slightly open and gazing in the distance. A content smile on the large mans face. George smiled himself, but it was a bitter one, full of self-loathing. And then he spoke with a hoarse voice. Words slurred from emotion and alcohol combined.

 

“Oh, Lennie. Ya, damn crazy bastard. How many times I tell you. I tell you that ya wouldn’ survive withou’ me? How many? An’ ya stuck wit’ me,” He murmured, voice thick with restrained tears. “Ya stayed ‘cause ya wanted to tend them damn rabbits! And afta’ all that I end up the one ta kill ya! I killed ya! Shot you righ’ in the back of da head! I didn’ wanna do it, Lennie! I swear!” He yelled. Anger quickly giving way to small sobs as he moved closer to the dead man.

 

He closed the man’s eyes completely. “I’m so sorry, Lennie. So sorry.” He murmured. He dragged himself up and walked back toward the trees. Looking back one last time before leaving. He’d come back tomorrow with a shovel to bury Lennie.

 

   And he did come back; he marched right up to the clearing and dug a hole large enough to fit Lennie in before putting him in it. Remaining silent the entire time. He quickly filled the hole back up and left without a word. He returned the next day to put a stone at the top of the grave. The moderately sized rock had the name Lennie carved in it. This time he lingered, eyeing the grave to make sure it was just right. Never once saying a word during it. 

 

He’d come back the next week with a crudely carved rabbit and place it at the head of the grave. Once again not saying a word. But that would be the last time he ever returned to the clearing.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on continuing the Hear My Voice, Take my Hand series and will try to keep this updated! Please leave comments, prompts, questions, or just drop a kudos. : )


	7. Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O my goodness guys! I'm so sorry! I'm still alive I just got swamped with work/school and everything in between. Here's the happy little piece I promised forever ago.
> 
> WARNINGS: None
> 
> all characters are owned by me along with the plot. (who else would be dumb enough to write a horrible plot like this)
> 
> Enjoy!

_How many days would it take to try to build a bookshelf from scratch? Why measure in days? If you’re dedicated enough you could totally make it in a couple of hours...right?_

 

The sudden dip of weight to the left of Lys’ body pulled her from her wandering thoughts. She opened her eyes, lazily rolling her head to the side.

 

Only to scrunch her nose up as she caught a nose full of post-run sweat smell. “Ugh, dude, go shower. You _stink_.” She complained, turning her head away.

 

Max snorted. “I thought girls were supposed to dig sweaty guys?” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

 

Lys rolled her eyes. “That would require me to be 1- straight and 2- have a sexual drive larger than a pea.” She replied. Shoving him playfully of the sofa. Max dramatically fell to the floor and draped his arm across his forehead.

 

“To think. I finally move into an apartment with a girl only for fate to deem her asexual. Whatever will my conservative parents think of me now.” He exclaimed theatrically. When he didn’t receive a response he peeked out from under his arm. He bit back laughter at the unimpressed look he was currently being leveled with. Only to lose the fight and start laughing. Lys soon joined their cackles echoing in the small apartment.

 

Max let out an _oof_ when Lys rolled off the couch and landed on him. She flopped over his stomach, head resting on the floor to his left while her feet were comfortably propped on the edge of the couch to his right. She shot him a smirk, shifting so that her shoulder blades weren’t digging into his side.

 

“What am I? A beanbag?” He questioned. Though he wasn’t at all bothered by the impromptu cuddle session, he did want to take a shower. He could feel the sticky sensation of stale sweat cooling to his skin.

 

“Yep. You are also overdramatic. Alas, thus is the consequence of having a thespian as a roomie.” She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

 

“ _I’m_ overdramatic? Weren’t you the one who, just last week, was crying in the kitchen because we were out of pickles? _Crying_. Like. Literal tears.”

 

“Hey! I was on my period thank you very much. Besides, my reaction was completely justified. You never get between a girl and her menstrual cravings. _Never_.” She stared into his eyes intently to emphasize her point before her lips twitched and they were soon laughing once more.

 

* * *

 

“You know, my Mom gave me the whole ‘use safety’ speech when I moved out? They honestly didn’t believe me when I said we were just friends.” Mark turned to Lys, a curious look in his eyes. “Didn’t you tell them that you were asexual?” he questioned.

 

“Yeah, but they’re still in that denial mindset, where to them it’s just a phase.” Lys sighed, sinking lower into the couch. She gazed dejectedly at the t.v screen, flashes of light from the movie they’d settled down to watch over dinner lighting up her features in an eerie glow.

 

“Oh, well...that...sucks.” Max winced. _I really need to work on my comforting skills_.

 

“Yeah…, at least I have the whole infertile deal that protects me from getting the whole ‘When are you going to give me grandchildren, Sweetie?’ talk” she said with a snort, falling silent. Lys stayed silent for a moment, before seeming to shake herself out of whatever funk had caught hold of her. “ _Anyway_ , let’s talk about the horror that is this chicks acting. Like, I’ve seen hot dogs act better than her.” she punctuated her comment with a wide gesture toward the girl on screen, who was currently trying-and failing to escape from the ax murderer.

 

Max raised his eyebrow in bemusement. It wasn’t the first time she’d raised the subject of some personal problem before quickly shutting it down. If he hadn’t known her for as long as he had he would have, this behavior would have raised concern. But, Max knew that it was just how she coped with things. She would probably talk more about it later but for now, she’d gotten part of it off of her chest and that was what he was here for. He shook his head fondly. “You got that right. I mean have you ever seen a faker trip than that?”

 

She laughed and snagged the last fortune cookie off the coffee table. The silence between them comforting. He moved closer, stretching out on the couch so that their thighs touched. He sighed in contentment. _This is the way he wanted it to be. No sexual tension. No need for intimacy in any way other than platonic. Just two great friends, eating crappy Chinese take-out while watching an equally crappy movie in their two-room, one bath apartment. And that’s exactly how they planned to stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! Remember drop a kudo and give prompts!! Please!! I'm gonna start trying to write on bi-weekly schedule from now on. I'll also be uploading a second part of Hear my Voice, Take my hand for those of you who read Part 1! So be on the lookout and sorry for the long wait! RA: Cast Reacts Continuation is on the to do list as well as a little something for my Stays (you know who you are)! If you read all this thankyou for taking the time to do so. 
> 
> Stay Happy and Healthy!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This one was short but hope you liked it! I will try to post a longer one soon!


End file.
